He told me all the wonders of the world,
All the smoke-filled ponderings and philosophies,
Yet he himself was but a wretched worm.

Young but wary,
I’d walk past the mushroom without a bite,
And walk into the flower garden level headed.
Drawn as I was to the roses,
Lovely hues,
Too classic for so whimsical a place.

But oh what a pleasant surprise to be serenaded by a pretty stargazer.
Who trilled in lilting soprano,
Blossoms rounded in the curve of treble clef,
Shrill and wonderful
Such that even my skin listened

And what would I give to linger in the garden,
But the journey and path continue on.
After all, the smirking cat said nothing about staying,
Perhaps the smile will carry on.